


The Second Heat

by Anonymous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Crossdressing, Jean in a Suit, M/M, Mpreg, Omega!Eren, Prom, Self Lubrication, Top!Jean, alpha!jean, bottom!Eren, omega in heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:43:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren, an Omega, is invited to prom by none other than Jean Kirstein, an Alpha with a bit of a reputation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Heat

            “You _smell,_ ” Mikasa comments, sitting down next to Eren. Eren sticks his tongue out at her, emphasizing his disgust by scooting further away from her on the bench that they’re sharing.

            “ _Thanks_ ,” he says, sarcasm flooding into his voice and taking over his entire tone. He rests his chin in his palm, elbow on the table in front of him, sighing - Mikasa’s not wrong. She’s absolutely right, in fact. Eren _does_ smell, and he’s lucky if the entire school doesn’t smell him by now.

            “Is _it_ starting soon?”

            “ _Mikasa,_ ” Eren groans, “Don’t say it so fucking loudly.”

            “I’m just asking. It’s not like it matters,” she shrugs.

            “Yeah, but you don’t have to _say_ it.”

            Mikasa shakes her head. She peers down at the plate in front of her - school lunches have _never_ looked appetizing, hence why Eren doesn’t have one set out in front of himself. Mikasa sucks it up and trudges her way through the shitty macaroni and cheese and _what even_ is _that pile of goop?_ It looks like mashed potatoes. It _looks_ like _garbage._

            “Want some of my food?” Mikasa offers, having only taken one bite of her meal thus far.

Eren shakes his head, sighing, but appreciating the subject change.

            “You know,” Mikasa says, “You’re supposed to eat during your heat.”

            “God _fucking_ damn it, Mikasa,” Eren covers his face with his hands, “I _told_ you not to say it out loud.”

            Eren knows that Mikasa has good intentions. She always does. She cares about him, being the Alpha that she is - she’s not Eren’s Alpha, but hell, with the way she acts, she might as well be. Eren cringes at the thought - Mikasa might as well be his _sister._ She’s so close to him, even though she’s nothing more than a friend. The thought of having her watch over him and try to protect him in more ways than just a family sort of love is _disgusting._

“This is your second one, isn’t it?” Mikasa asks, as if his heat is just something to be brought up during casual conversation.

            “Mhm.” And it’s true - it _is_ only Eren’s second heat. His first one had occurred a few months ago, and it’s taking his body a while to settle into a regular schedule. His last one had been horrible - Mikasa had been gone for a vacation, so Eren, being the blissfully unaware and hormonal teenager that he is, hadn’t even noticed all of the odd looks given to him by Alphas. He’s lucky that he didn’t get attacked by one of them, though he’s almost certain that he would’ve been if he weren’t on his spring break and stuck at home all alone during his heat session. It actually physically - as well as mentally - _pained_ him to go through his first heat, his body wet with sweat and the assorted fluids pouring out of his downstairs area, his face red, his hair damp.

            He can’t help it. It’s something that happens to all Omegas like himself, something that happens to all creatures that are destined to give birth one day.

            Eren’s not looking forward to going through that shit again, though. He _dreads_ it, and the worst part is, he doesn’t even know _when_ it’ll start. Mikasa’s no help - all she knows is that he _smells._

            “Maybe you should’ve stayed home today,” Mikasa murmurs, her voice low as she glances around the room. “You’re getting looks.”

            “From who? I’ll fuck them up.”

            “No, you won’t,” Mikasa sighs, “You can’t even lift five pounds, how are you going to win in a fight?”

            “I’ll win if it’s someone like Armin,” Eren says, in reference to his little Beta friend who Eren, admittedly, rarely talks to. Armin’s fine company to be around, but he’s always in tears over one thing or another, and while Eren feels like shit for thinking bad things about him, he’s quite frankly _annoying_ sometimes.

“It’s not Armin.”

            “Who is it, then?”

            Mikasa clears her throat. “It’s, ah, _Kirstein_ over there.”

            Eren feels his heart skip a beat. He forces his head up to find said person, trying to look angrier than he truly is - he should be _furious._ Jean Kirstein, asshole of the year, caught staring at _Eren?_ It should make him laugh. Jean’s never been too friendly to Eren, and he’s probably only looking at him because he smells like pure, unadulterated _sex._ But Eren can’t help but feel a little nervous and, to an extent, _happy._

Eren does _not_ have a crush on Jean Kirstein. Not at all. Why would he? Jean never spares him a second glance. Eren’s nothing special. The most that Jean’s ever done to him is steal his pencils. Eren’s never asked for the pencils back, though, and _maybe_ he feels a little good when he sees Jean using his pencils. He would never say _that_ out loud, though.

            “Jean?” Eren asks, as if he needs confirmation.

            “Yeah. By the trash cans over there,” Mikasa points.

            Eren follows her finger, and sure enough, halfway across the school cafeteria sits none other than Jean fucking Kirstein and his little posse of people who Eren has no idea even existed until just now. Jean looks away when Eren meets his gaze, but he was _definitely_ staring.

            Eren pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his fingers, clutching onto the fabric for dear life. He’s _nervous._ Why is he so nervous? He didn’t feel nervous when Mikasa first mentioned that he was being watched. He didn’t feel nervous when he thought it was just some creepy pervert looking over at him. Why does _Jean_ make him anxious?

            Eren’s known Jean for as long as he can remember. They met in middle school - the only reason they hadn’t met _earlier_ was because Eren went to a school for Omegas-only in his elementary years. His mother doesn’t quite believe in having mixed schools for such young, flourishing children, and Eren couldn’t fight it. He was five years old, how could he understand any of it?

            Though, Eren _can_ see where she’s coming from. He’s in high school, now, and people are fucking each other left and right. Omegas and Alphas and Betas alike, all over each other, and even the people who Eren _least_ suspects end up pregnant.

            In their society, Omegas are the birth givers. They’re the lowest class of them all, but recently there’s been a huge Omega rights movement that led to giving Omegas the right to entrance in any public building that they like, and all that kind of stuff. Eren doesn’t pay too much attention to politics.

            Eren, until recently, hadn’t bothered to pay much _any_ attention to the way that his body’s going to change and how it’s supposed to work. He had no idea that his ass would leak fifty different kinds of fluids overnight during his heat, until it actually _happened._ He had no idea that he’d give off a scent so strong that it’d grab the attention of Alphas all around, until it actually _happened._

            Even now, Eren can tell that the other Alphas are trying their hardest not to stare at him.

            Alphas are the highest in their very constructed society. They’re given all of the power, though Eren doesn’t give too much of a shit. All he really wants in life is to travel the world, and hey, if he can get an Alpha who will take him to Paris and London and New York, why the hell not?

            “He’s coming over here,” Mikasa whispers, leaning towards Eren. Eren sits up a little straighter, his eyes widening - he can’t believe he’s doing it, but he actually tries to fix up his appearance as quickly as he can.

            He’s wearing a plain, gray sweater, the neckline low and the hem falling over his hips. The sleeves cover his fingers, and his pants are as tight as can be. They’re dark, black as the night - they’re his favorite pair, if not because they’re comfortable than because they make his legs look alluring. He likes his body - he has the curves that everybody lusts for, his butt not too big but still attractive, his hips wide enough to grab but not so wide that he can’t find trousers that’ll fit him.

            Eren runs a hand through his hair - it all falls back into place as soon as his hand’s gone, and he looks up to find that Mikasa’s right. Jean is walking towards him, long strides as he pulls his jacket up on his arms.

            Eren feels his face heat up. As much as he’d hate to admit it, he _does_ like Jean. Just a _little_ bit. He shouldn’t, he’s only talked to Jean so many times, but he _does._

            Mikasa stands up, taking her tray away and leaving. Eren tries to reach for her to pull her back, but she’s fast, and before he knows it, _Jean’s_ sitting beside him and Mikasa’s gone to who-knows-where.

            Eren freezes. He waits for Jean to speak first, because, quite frankly, Eren’s mouth is too dry to talk. His heart’s on overdrive, and he resents himself, because _why does Jean make him so nervous?_ Jean doesn’t even have a good scent about him, but Eren’s never really had a good nose for that kind of stuff.

            Jean, unfortunately, _doesn’t_ talk first, staring down at the table blankly. Eren sighs, and decides to take the initiative.

            “Jean?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Why did you come over here?”

            “Huh? Oh. _Oh,_ right, uh,” Jean mutters, and then he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

            “What?”

            “Uh.”

            Eren almost wants to laugh. Jean seems to be on edge, which is a new for him - Jean’s usually the guy who walks around all loud and proud, flaunting his new pair of shoes or combing through his hair like he’s _not_ in the middle of class and, rather, he’s at a runway for models.

            “You know that stupid prom thing that’s happening soon, right?”

            “Huh?”

            “The one that’s, um, next week, yeah?” Jean asks.

            Eren nods his head slowly. It’s a senior prom, but Eren’s a junior, so he hadn’t paid too much attention to the details of it. Jean, however, is a senior - he’s only one year older than Eren, but the group that he hangs out with are all Eren’s age, hence why Eren’s had so much communication with Jean in his life.

            “What about it?” Eren asks, tilting his head. Jean peers over at him, the _slightest_ of blushes on his cheeks.

            “Want to come with me?”

            Eren’s chest aches. It _burns._

Jean Kirstein is asking him to the senior _prom._ Why?

            “Are you being serious?”

            “No, fucktard, I came all the way over here just to make a fool of myself. _Yes,_ I’m being serious.”

            “You really want _me_ to go to prom with you?”

            Jean looks at him for a moment, before catching on to the issue. “Oh, _I_ get it.”

            “What?”

            “You’re insecure.”

            “ _Excuse me?_ ”

            “You look up to me so much, and you can’t believe that someone as awesome as me is actually talking to you,” Jean assumes, a smug smirk on his face.

            Eren blinks, before letting out a bout of strained laughter. It’s meant to come out as snarky, but he feels that it just comes off as more _anxious_ than anything else.

            Jean gives him a sideglare. “So are you coming with me or not?”

            “To prom?”

            “Yeah.”

            Eren hesitates. He _does_ want to go. So very much. He doesn’t even know why. He’s looked up to Jean for so long now, and his chest aches _so much._ But Eren’s never really cared about dances, and he’s tried to hard to pretend that he _doesn’t_ like Jean like that. Eren sighs, confused as ever, but Eren’s always been a bit of a risk taker, so why the hell not?

            “Sure, Jean. I’ll go with you to prom.”

\------

            Eren looks over his appearance one more time, turning left and right to admire his body. As traditional Omega wear, he’s chosen - or, rather, been forced by his parents - to wear a dress. It’s short, a bright green color to match his eyes, the collar of the dress falling dangerously close to his nipples and the hem flowing outwardly like a flower. It’s sparkly at the bottom, and Eren’s a little ashamed to say that he _likes_ the outfit. He hasn’t worn a dress since elementary school, when it was _required_ to wear skirts, and he’s completely forgotten how nice it feels to have a breeze through his legs.

            Eren’s not supposed to be going out tonight. Mikasa’s told him to stay home, she doesn’t think that it’s safe for Eren to go to a huge party where there will be _plenty_ of Alphas to smell his strong scent and to get off on the sight of Eren’s tanned legs. But fuck Mikasa, what does she know? Eren’s going to take his chances tonight, risking the start of his heat in exchange for a fun time.

            His parents wouldn’t approve, either, but Eren hasn’t told them that he’s nearing the start of his second heat. They, just like Eren, have shitty noses, so they can’t smell what Eren’s giving off.

            Eren can feel his heat starting, though. It’s right there, between his legs, gradually soaking the dark lace panties that he’s dug out of the far depths of his closet. It feels _disgusting,_ to be so _wet_ down there, but as long as it’s not dripping down his legs, he thinks that he’ll be fine for a few hours.

            Jean’s supposed to be arriving at any moment. Eren had, with the slightest of hesitation, given him his home address just a few days prior. Jean had approached him early in the morning on a school day to ask for it, and Eren, who was waiting by his locker for Mikasa to show up, wrote it down on Jean’s arm. Hopefully the bastard didn’t forget to write it down on _paper_ before washing his skin off.

            Eren walks out of his bedroom and rushes downstairs, shoes in hand before stopping just outside the front door of his house. His parents are gone, they both left for a fancy dinner - they decided that, since Eren’s going to prom, they’ll take the time to celebrate as well. Eren doesn’t mind, though. He really doesn’t want Jean to have to meet his parents all of a sudden like this, before their first _date,_ if he’s allowed to call it such.

            Eren drops his shoes to the floor - they aren’t anything fancy. Slip-ons. Hard to walk in, but comfortable as all fuck.

            Eren slides his feet into the shoes, and almost as if on cue, the doorbell behind him rings, and Eren nearly has a heart attack from the surpise brought about by it. He takes a moment to calm himself, chest still twisting from surprise mixed with his anxiety, and he whirls around to open the door.

            “Kirstein,” Eren greets, face warm despite the cold night.

            “Jaeger,” Jean nods, referring to Eren’s last name.

            It only occurs to Eren, now, that this could all just be a cruel joke. Jean could just be playing with him, tugging on his heartstrings, and who knows? Maybe Eren will show up to the dance and be ridiculed for even _thinking_ that Jean could like him. Eren tries not to think about that, though - this should be a _good_ night. Jean wouldn’t be so cruel as to humiliate him at a special event like this, would he?

            Eren’s not so sure.

            Eren looks Jean up and down - he’s decked out in a _suit,_ and he actually looks really handsome. Eren’s thought that he’s looked handsome before, in his casual wear, but hot _damn._ He looks like something straight out of a movie, a teenage dream that any Omega would lust after.

            “You look nice,” Jean mutters, his eyes raking Eren up and down.

            Eren, in a nervous fluster, says, “And you look like shit.”

            It occurs to him too late that _maybe_ he should try to be nice to this guy, if only for tonight.

            “ _Fuck_ you.”

            “Can we just get this over with?”

            “You don’t want to do this?”

            “No, I, uh, I _do,_ ” Eren holds up his hands defensively, “It’s just- Nervous, yeah?”

            Jean lets out an amused huff of air, and he nods, holding his hand out. “That’s why I picked you, you know.”

            “Huh?”

            “You’re cute when you’re nervous. You’re mean, too, but you make up for it.”

            “Hah. Oh.”

            “Let’s go,” Jean says, “I only have so much patience.”

            Eren nods, and noticing that Jean’s holding his arm out for him, takes the offering. He interlocks their arms together at the elbows, taking slow steps out the front door. Jean, despite having said that he _only has so much patience_ , seems to be patient enough for Eren to go about his business like a snail. Eren’s not doing it on purpose, though - he’s always thought of dances and proms as formal things, and formal things are meant to be taken gradually.

            Eren, even though he’s full of nerves and his chest aches like a hammer’s been taken to it, couldn’t be happier. Jean, the kid he grew up admiring from afar - even though he’d never admit that he was doing such - taking him to a _dance._ Nothing could’ve stopped Eren from coming, be it his heat, Mikasa, or even his parents. He’d sneak out the window if he had to.

            Jean looks a hell of a lot more confident than Eren does, which sets Eren slightly on edge. But he’s not mad. He can’t be mad. Even if something horrible happens to him, he can at least say that he had fun dressing up for it, right?

            Maybe Eren’s just a little too hopeful.

\------

            “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Jean says, stopping Eren just before the entrance to the school.

            “Why?”

            “Uh, well, first of all, you smell.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Your natural scent, I mean. You smell like an Omega.”

            “Maybe because I _am_ one,” Eren mutters.

            “I _meant,_ ” Jean says, “You smell like you’re about to go through your heat, yeah?”

            “So? I’m strong,” Eren stands up straight, evening out his shoulders and elongating his neck, “I can stand up for myself if anything happens.”

            “Can you?”

            “I can. It’s only for a few hours.”

            Jean stares at him, considering this for a few moments. He then nods, and he holds the door open, allowing Eren to enter the front doors first.

            The two of them walk together, arms still connected, down the hallway and into the school auditorium. Very, _very_ few people are dancing, but Eren can’t quite blame them. The music is old, and the floor’s likely dirty from neglect.

            The auditorium is fairly large - around the sides of the room, there are tables set out for food and drink and the occasional couple that just doesn’t care that anybody’s watching them make out. There are hardly any adults around, which Eren supposes is a good thing. Adults are annoying.

            “Wait here,” Jean says, “I’ll go get us some drinks.”

            Eren nods, watching as Jean jogs off. He looks a little funny, running in a suit, but he’s not _bad looking._ Eren actually finds himself staring after him, and he has to shake his head to distract himself.

            He feels odd. He’d already felt weird enough, sitting at home with his clothing growing damp from his nether regions, but _this_ is ten times worse. It’s like his body’s decided to throw everything at him all at once - Eren’s wearing a thin dress, but it doesn’t help his body temperature at all. He’s _sweating,_ which really doesn’t help his whole wetness situation.

            As much as he’d hate to admit it to himself, he feels completely and undeniably _horny._ All of the tall, handsome boys walking around with strong Alpha scents, their shirts unbuttoned, the occasional meeting of the eyes - really, it just makes Eren _that_ much more ready to take a big, fat cock up his ass.

            Eren fidgets with his dress, having to look down every now and then to make sure that it’s not obvious that he’s leaking. Why did his heat have to start _now?_ Now, of all times. If it could’ve just waited maybe _one more day,_ Eren would be fine with that. He has toys that could supplement him for another day. But _now,_ here and now, where the entire senior class can smell him, Eren couldn’t be any unluckier. He knows that not everyone’s a good person, especially not around here in a school for mixed breeds. If he waits any longer, he’s certain to be taken advantage of by someone that he doesn’t trust.

            There’s only one solution. Eren’s morals be damned, he’s going to have to do _something_ to surpress his smell for just a few hours.

            Jean walks back, two red cups in hand. He hands one to Eren - Eren glances down, and inside is a dark liquid - but Eren can’t bring himself to drink right now. His anxiety, mixing in with his horniness, is fogging up his thoughts and making it hard to see straight.

            “Jean?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Do I _really_ smell that bad to you?”

            Jean raises his eyebrows, and he says, “No, not _bad._ Just, strong, yeah?”

            “Do you, ah, do you think that maybe we could _fix that?_ ” Eren says, nudging Jean suggestively.

            Jean takes a moment to understand what Eren’s getting at, and all of his confidence drains away immediately. “I- I guess, if you really want to, are you sure?”

            “Positive,” Eren says, grabbing Jean’s arm. He drags him across the room to the restrooms, kicking open the door with his foot. He pulls Jean in, taking the briefest of moments to check and see if anybody’s in the bathroom. It wouldn’t matter if they were - Eren will be damned if he has to go through his heat alone again. Last time was _horrible,_ and he didn’t have any toys to momentarily satisfy him - all he had were his fingers and the disgusting assortment of fluids falling out of him like a waterfall.

            Eren shoves his way into a stall, shutting the door and locking it. Jean stands across from him, and they both set to work - Eren puts his arms to Jean’s collar, pulling him close and attacking his lips. His nose presses to Jean’s cheek, and he feels hands roaming up and down his thighs. His thighs are wet, but Jean doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he seems to like it, if the way that he continues to massage Eren’s legs are any sign.

            “You like me, don’t you?” Jean breathes as Eren releases his lips for a moment.

            “Of course I do,” Eren responds, pressing their lips together again for a second. “And you like me, don’t you?”

            “‘Course, how couldn’t I?”

            Eren smiles, panting. He shrugs off Jean’s suit jacket, where it falls to the floor in a heap. Jean, taking the hint, whirls Eren around so that his chest’s pressed against the stall divider.

            Eren moans, feeling as Jean lifts up the bottom of his dress. There are hands on his ass, and before Eren can even register exactly what’s going on, he feels fingers sliding inside of him, stretching him out.

            “Ah, _fuck,_ ” Eren sighs, pushing back on Jean’s hand. There are only two fingers in him, but it sends sensations throughout his body, and he rocks back and forth, begging for more with his body and his mouth.

            Eren doesn’t need lubing up - his body provides enough of it itself, wetting Jean’s fingers as they move around. He feels him scissor around his asshole, and soon enough, there’s a _third_ finger probing around.

            “Fuck it,” Eren breathes, “ _More,_ Jean, _more._ ”

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Your cock,” Eren gasps, taking in the entire length of Jean’s digits, “I want it.”

            “Say please.”

            “ _Please,_ ” Eren begs, not even caring that his dignity is being ripped to shreds in front of the man he so desires, “Please, please, please, put it in.”

            Eren whimpers, feeling the loss of Jean’s fingers. He feels so _empty_ without them, he almost regrets asking for him to fuck him - that is, until he feels the tip of Jean’s length around the rim of his ass.

            “ _Ah, Jean,_ ” Eren whines, and he shoves himself backwards, taking in as much of Jean as he can. He’s tight, even though Jean had prepared him as best he could, and it _hurts_ when Jean enters him.

            “Are you okay?” Jean pants, noticing the strained expression on Eren’s face. Eren’s nose is scrunched, and his fingers curl against the bathroom stall, a painful cry sliding from his lips.

            “I- I’m fine.”

            “I’ll go easy on you,” Jean whispers, promising with a hand to Eren’s hips. The other hand sets itself over one of Eren’s on the stall, locking their fingers together.

            Eren never thought that he’d be losing his virginity in the nasty old school bathroom, but _something_ is better than nothing right now. Anything.

            Jean slowly pulls himself out of Eren, and almost as soon as he’s gone, he’s right back in again, hitting Eren in just the right spot to make him nearly scream.

            Eren gasps as Jean gradually picks up a steady rhythm - Eren’s panties have fallen to his ankles, tying him in place as he lets Jean do what he wants to him. Jean thrusts in, managing to find his prostate and position himself in such a way that he’s nearly guaranteed to hit it each and every time.

            Jean grunts, the sound of his panting mixing in with the blissful melody of Eren’s moans, the slapping of skin against skin with every ram from Jean, the faint banging of Eren’s upper body against the bathroom stall. Eren can feel himself preparing to cum, his lower extremities burning with passion and a lustful fire.

            “J- Jean,” Eren gasps, “I’m going to-”

            Jean, seeming to know what Eren’s about to say, reaches around with the hand that was on Eren’s hip, grabs Eren’s cock. He flicks his wrist up and down expertly, using the liquid left on his fingers to slick up his dick as Eren rides him mercilessly.

            The feeling of Jean on his back and on his cock and _inside of him_ gets to be too much, and Eren’s nose remains scrunched and his eyes close as he orgasms over the wall of the bathroom stall and the tips of his fancy dress. Jean follows up not too long after, his groans much lower than Eren’s but still probably loud enough for the whole school to hear.

            Eren doesn’t care, though. He’s wet, his rear is full of his own liquids combining with the load that Jean’s just left in him, and he’s _sweaty._ He needs to get cleaned up, at least well enough that he can leave the bathroom without looking like he’s so obviously just been fucked in the ass.

            “Love?” Jean asks, straightening his pants and fixing himself back up. Eren peers over, bending down just far enough to pick up his underwear from where it was around his ankles and pull them up over himself.

            “Yeah?”

            “Do you still want to stay for a dance?”

            “I don’t see why not.”

            Jean grins, and Eren’s mouth works on its own as he smiles back. Once his panties are back to his thighs, he asks Jean for a towel, and Jean offers his jacket instead. It’s better than nothing, and knowing Jean, he probably has more jackets that he can use, so it’ll have to do for now.

            Eren wipes himself down, face first and then his lower regions. Once all of the cum and sweat and spit seems to be off of him, he tosses the jacket to the floor - it’s not like Jean’s going to want it back, after that.

            Jean, having cleaned himself off as well, offers Eren his hand. He might’ve fixed everything else up, but he hasn’t washed his hands yet, but Eren doesn’t care.

            Eren likes Jean. Even when his hands are filthy.

\------

            “So how was the dance?” Mikasa asks, walking by Eren down the hallway of the school. Eren’s eyes roam about, in search of his new lover.

            “It was fine.”

            “Just fine?” Mikasa nudges him with her elbow, “What about Jean?”

            “He was fine, too.”

            “Are you going to tell me more, or is that all that I’m going to get from you?”

            “That’s all you’re going to get,” Eren says with a small laugh. Mikasa shakes her head, but she has the smallest of smiles, too.

            “You smell a little funny today,” she comments.

            Eren looks at her. It’s been a week since the dance - Mikasa had been gone for several days to take a trip to a nearby city for the sudden visit of her father home from the army, so Eren hadn’t seen her the whole time. Eren felt lonely, sure, but he had Jean to comfort him in the meantime.

            Jean’s been going out of his way to hang out with Eren recently. He’s left his group of friends multiple times to come and wrap his arm around Eren’s shoulders. Eren _might have_ secretly stuck out his tongue and flashed the middle finger to his friends, who knows. Jean’s friends are known for being jerks, and it really doesn’t help that Eren’s run into several bad experiences with them.

            Jean’s a little different, though. Eren _likes_ him. He probably shouldn’t, but he does.

            “I do?” Eren asks, in reference to Mikasa’s comment about his scent, “What do you mean?”

            “You smell, ah,” Mikasa takes a moment to inhale Eren’s scent by his shoulder, “Uh- You smell almost _pregnant._ ”

            “Pregnant? The hell does that smell like?”

            “Your scent is really strong, Eren. Did you _do something?_ ”

            “No,” Eren says defensively, his response coming out a little too quickly. “I, uh, I don’t know what you mean.”

            “Go talk to the school nurse, Eren. Just to be sure, yeah?”

            “How could I get pregnant if I haven’t done anything?”

            “I don’t know,” Mikasa shrugs, “Just do it, please? I just want to be sure that you’re okay.”

            Eren groans, but he turns around from where he and Mikasa were walking down the hallway. He sends her one last glare, before sprinting down the hall towards the front office. He accidentally bumps into a few people on the way, but it’s nobody too important.

            Eren runs into the front office, and he forces the words out as he asks the lady behind the desk for a pregnancy test. She offers it to him, and Eren takes the shameful trudge over to the bathrooms.

            He’s nervous, he’s _so nervous,_ his heart pounding, sweat pooling at his forehead. He can’t be pregnant. How could he be pregnant? He’s only had sex _once._

Eren fears the worse, walking into the bathroom and setting everything up. Eren’s always wanted babies, sure, but _now?_ He’s still in high school. He can’t be pregnant yet.

            But what if he is? What now? He’ll have to drop out of school. His parents will kill him, and that’s only if Mikasa doesn’t kill him first. Jean, too, what if Jean decides to leave him? Jean might be a bit brash sometimes, but he’s not _irresponsible._ But nobody wants to be left with the responsibility of a new life at such a young age.

            Then again, Jean _is_ a senior. He’s about to graduate. Their little sex session had been done in the heat of the moment, but Jean’s old enough to understand his actions and know that he can’t just run away from it.

            Eren, finishing up his business, plucks the pregnancy test from the urinal with shaky fingers. He squints down at it, vision blurring as he waits for the result to show up on it.

            All at once, Eren feels his heart nearly explode in his chest. All of his hopes and dreams come crashing down on him, and his face turns red with worry and his limbs go limp with self-loathing.

            Positive.

            Eren’s pregnant.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a lil rushed, but hopefully it wasn't too bad.


End file.
